Awake
by amillionsmiles
Summary: "So keep me awake to memorize you...give me more time to feel this way..." Mako and Korra, post-finale, and all their little moments. Consists of oneshots and drabbles to prompt words from the 30 day challenge. #20: tremble.
1. beginning

**A/N: **These are for the 30 day challenge, because I needed to spew my Makorra feelings somehow after that finale (which was dal;shkgfl;ksahgds;ilfh AMAZING), and I'm sorely uninspired right now so I figured I'd just use prompt words instead. Unfortunately, I only have the first five prompt words, so if someone could give me a link to the rest, that'd be greatly appreciated. :)

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**1. beginning**

* * *

Korra sprawls on the red couch pushed against the window in the attic of the Probending Arena, which has been resurrected bigger and brighter than ever. She can't fathom why Mako and Bolin moved back in, though as she looks over the back of the couch, out the window, she admits the view is as breathtaking as Mako says it is. She supposes that the fact they don't have to pay rent anymore also has something to do with it, but figures that Bolin's statement comes closest to the truth: "Home is home. And it was our home for so long, so…"

Mako sits on the right side of the couch, Korra's legs in his lap. He has the newspaper open and reads it quietly while Korra bounces a ball against the hardwood floor, her right arm dangling off the couch as she orchestrates its movements. _Thump. Thump. Thump._ Mako hides it well, but Korra sees him clench his jaw slightly as he flips a page and smiles to herself. Sure, they've said their _I love you's_ and everything, but at the end of the day she still likes pushing his buttons. And she still knows exactly how to push them.

"Korra, do you mind?" Mako asks, arching an eyebrow as he peers over the paper at her.

"Nope, I don't," Korra replies innocently. _Thump. Thump._ The ball continues its relentless bouncing.

Mako rolls his eyes and turns back to whatever article he's reading, but for a second Korra spots a gleam in his eye that she doesn't like.

Before she knows it, the newspaper is cast aside and she finds her rubber ball in Mako's hands.

"Hey!" Korra protests, sitting upright. "Give that back!"

Mako rolls it between his fingers. "Only if you promise not to bounce it anymore," he requests.

Korra folds her arms. "No."

"Then," Mako says, tossing it from hand to hand, "I'll just keep it."

Korra follows the movement before she lunges.

Mako's eyes widen in surprise as he is pushed backwards onto the couch, Korra's body leaning over him as she tries to grab the ball.

"What are you doing?" he asks, incredulous, stretching his arm higher, out of Korra's reach.

"Getting the ball back. What does it seem like I'm doing?" Korra asks—mischievous (and maybe a little suggestive), for a minute, as she pulls back and looks Mako in the eyes. She knows she's acting kind of childish—they both are, but it's nice that they _can_ act like this, without it being some sort of forbidden thing. "Argh, your arms are too long," she complains.

Mako laughs and pushes her back with one hand, his other arm still outstretched over his head. _"Korra,"_ he exhales, all breathy and exasperated but also amused, and the way he says her name makes her tingle all over.

"_Mako,"_ she parrots back, scrambling over him and still trying to make a grab for her stolen toy. Mako wraps an arm around her waist to pull her back down, and she laughs and writhes in his grip, swatting at his arm while Mako ducks her blows as much as he can, what with his compromising position.

It somehow deteriorates into a wrestling match and then a tickle fight, the ball rolled under the couch somewhere and Korra beneath Mako, laughing until her sides hurt and screeching "Get off of me!" as Mako exacts his revenge. He's laughing, too, and Korra can feel it in her chest, warm and bubbly and _hers._ He _loves_ her, she loves him, they're Mako and Korra but also MakoandKorra. And it feels right.

"Ooohkay, didn't know I'd be walking in on something," comes a voice, and Korra stops laughing long enough to turn her head. Bolin stands watching them, a box full of belongings in his hands (he and Mako haven't completely finished moving back in yet).

Mako eases off of Korra, his cheeks slightly pink (but probably nowhere near as flushed as hers, Korra thinks) as he scolds, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Bo."

Bolin sets the box down and raises his hand in surrender. "Oh, no no no, I wasn't thinking anything like that. I mean, it looked like—well, nope, totally clean thoughts. Me? Mind in the gutter? Nah." He waves his hand airily in dismissal. "I'm just gonna…go back out and leave you two alone. Together. In peace." Bolin backs away slowly before heading down the stairs. As his head disappears, Korra can hear his voice wafting up to them: "But be careful, okay? Use, like, protection or something—"

"_Bolin!" _Mako scowls.

"Okay! I'm going! Leaving you alone! In peace!"

Korra waits until Bolin is out of earshot before bursting into laughter. Mako, to his credit, keeps his scowl for a few moments longer before he chuckles, too. He throws one arm over the back of the couch and leans back, the sunlight basking his face in gold.

Korra swings her legs back into his lap and folds her arms beneath her head as she regards the room. Light streams in through the windows, and most of the crates have been unpacked. There's a little stove in the corner, where Mako cooks, presumably, and the new hardwood floors gleam with a polished shine.

"It's looking good," she says.

Mako nods, smiles. "It's a start."


	2. accusation

**A/N: **I just really like Cooking!Mako, okay.

Also, big thanks to whisperedtouches for the link to the other prompt words. :)

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**2. accusation**

* * *

"Okay, where are they?"

Korra stops rummaging through the pantry to inspect Mako. "Oh, no. Don't tell me Pema roped you into cooking for Meelo's birthday bash."

Mako has enough manly pride to protest—somewhat. "She let us stay on the island with her while our house was gone, okay? It's the least I could do."

"Um, hello? _Who_ begged Tenzin to let you stay on the island?" reminds Korra.

Mako makes a chopping motion with his hands. "Not the problem right now. Where are the cookies?"

"Cookies?" Korra asks, sounding a little too innocent (or maybe Mako's just paranoid, but seriously, he spent an hour on those things. And knowing Korra, she probably wouldn't have hesitated to stuff the whole batch of them in her mouth). Mako's eyes narrow.

"Is that a crumb I see?" he points to the corner of Korra's mouth, gesticulating wildly.

"What?" Korra splutters, hand coming up to brush the side of her mouth (_just_ in case). "There's nothing there!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"I saw it!"

"You're crazy!"

"You're a _liar!"_

Their argument grounds to a halt upon hearing a frightened squeak from below the kitchen table. The two bend down cautiously to find Pabu nibbling at some golden-brown lumps (Mako doesn't even know how his brother's fire ferret got the whole platter down there in the first place).

"ARGH!" Mako throws his hands up in frustration.

Korra straightens and jabs him in the side with her elbow. "Apologize. Now."

* * *

**A/N: **Heh heh, reversed their lines from episode 5 during that argument scene so that Korra says what Mako said and Mako says what Korra said (oh, wait, nobody else noticed that? Yeah...I'm lame. :P)


	3. restless

**A/N:** Not quite as lighthearted as my previous two chapters, but I hope it's still okay.

* * *

**3. restless**

* * *

"Can't sleep?" The words sound as if they're from a lifetime ago, but they still hold true. Korra shifts against Naga's hide, making space. She's in Naga's pen, and even though the sight has always been familiar to her, it seems foreign, too, after everything that has happened away from here, away from the ice of the South Pole that remains pristine and untouched. She wonders how far Amon's revolution would have spread if she hadn't stopped him. Would he have made it here, eventually? Would he have cleansed the place where he learned to bend, too?

"Yeah. Which is kind of weird. I thought it'd be easier to sleep, after everything," Korra answers.

Mako sits down beside her. Finally, he asks, "Are you still worried about…Amon being out there?"

Korra rubs her eyes. "No. Tenzin…Tenzin told me he got a report from the police and the United Forces the other day. They were out scouring the bay to try and find Amon, and a bit further out they found a shipwreck. They haven't recovered the bodies completely yet, but the scraps of clothing they found…" she trails off.

Mako's eyes widen as he understands that the source of their fears and troubles might actually be gone for good.

"That's…" _Great,_ he wants to say, except a death is a death, and death is pretty horrible. So he settles for silence.

Korra brings her knees up to her chest. "Am I stupid for feeling sorry? I mean—he took away my _bending,"_ her throat closes on the words. She tries to suppress a sob but doesn't quite succeed. "He was evil and what he was doing wasn't right but I still don't know if he deserved to _die."_

"You don't need to know," Mako comforts, reaching around Korra's shoulders and pulling her close. It's not their job to play God and dictate who lives and who doesn't, though watching Korra come down from the Avatar State has hammered in the fact that she very well could be a god.

Right now, though, she's seventeen—confused, guilty, scared. "Stay with me, Mako?" she pleads. It's not in Korra's nature to beg, but Mako takes it as a sign that they've progressed to the point where she's okay with being vulnerable in front of him.

"I will," he promises. He'll stay all night if she asks.

When he sluggishly opens his eyes hours later and finds Korra nested in his side, breathing even and slow, he smiles and lets his eyes drift shut again.


	4. snowflake

**A/N: **Not much to say about this one. Just that the idea of a snowball fight is hard to resist. :)

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**4. snowflake**

* * *

"Ouch! That hurt, woman!" complains Bolin, rubbing his upper arm where Asami nailed him with a snowball. Asami giggles, and Mako tries to remember—_did she do that with me?_ He doesn't have much time to ponder (or consider whether he cares), because a mass of snow and ice hits him upside the head.

He whirls and glares at Korra.

"Come on, Bolin!" challenges Asami from farther off. "We're just warming up!"

"Show me what you got!" Korra beckons to all of them.

The first snowball comes from Bolin. Korra waterbends a sheet of ice to block it and Bolin calls out, "No fair!"

Korra laughs in answer and flings a snowball back at him.

Meanwhile, Mako inches behind her. Once he reaches striking distance, he scoops up a handful of snow and dumps it down her hood.

Korra's shriek cuts sharply through the frosty South Pole atmosphere. There's a tussle and he takes the fall, spitting snow and fur out of his mouth as he gets tackled into the snow.

"Get off, Korra," he groans. "You're heavy."

"What was that?" Korra asks, pelting him with a snowball for good measure. So much for not hitting a man while he's down, Mako thinks.

"Come on, Korra, lay off him," says Asami, and there's no bitterness in her voice, only amusement.

Korra reluctantly consents. She pulls Mako up to his feet and fixes his scarf, promising, "We'll finish this later," under her breath.

He can't help smiling.

"I can't believe we're going back to Republic City so soon," Bolin speaks. He has taken to making a snow angel and addresses the sky.

"I know," sighs Korra.

Bolin hops up. "Who here's hungry? 'Cause I could sure use something warm right now."

"I'll go with you," offers Asami.

Korra casts a questioning glance towards Mako, who shrugs in response. "We'll catch up with you later," she tells them, waving one gloved hand.

Once Bolin and Asami have disappeared out of view, Mako steps behind Korra. "Are you going to miss it?" he asks, eyes scanning the scenery around them.

Korra shrugs. "A little bit."

Mako bends down and sifts some snow through his fingers. "I wish I could take a handful with me," he announces suddenly. "Not because Republic City doesn't get any snow, but because…the snow is different here. Cleaner," he finishes lamely, sputtering for words, but Korra doesn't tease him for it. Spending time around her has helped him get better at saying things on his mind, no matter how mundane they seem.

"I tried to do that with a snowflake, once," Korra discloses, turning her face towards him. "I wanted to bring it in to show to my mom."

"How'd that go?" inquires Mako for the sake of continuing the conversation.

"It melted," Korra says simply.

All of a sudden, Mako wonders—_did I ever do that? _Did his parents ever see snow? He shakes the thought away because it's silly—of _course_ they saw _some_, but did he ever do with Korra did? Did he ever catch a snowflake in his hands and run to show his mother—_look, just for you?_ He can't remember and for some reason he feels as if he's lost something he never found in the first place.

"Hey," Korra reaches out and squeezes his hand, large and cold in her smaller, warmer ones. "You okay?"

"Fine," Mako replies, shaking his head to clear it.

"Then let's get something to eat. I think Katara's making stewed sea prunes. You're going to love them," she declares, a glint in her eye as she tugs him along.

Mako's not so sure about that, but he follows anyway.


	5. haze

**A/N:** I don't even know where I was going with this...

* * *

**5. haze**

* * *

Korra's vision is hazy. Not as if she's about to black out, but the air in front of her definitely looks smokier and darker than it did before. She coughs and waves a hand in the air frantically, airbending the dark, hovering cloud away from the smoke detector and praying it won't set off the fire alarm. She gropes around, finally managing to locate a window and props it open hurriedly, guiding the smoke cloud out. As an afterthought, she turns back and douses the quickly crisping food with water one more time, just to extinguish any leftover flames.

She surveys the kitchen and does a quick mental tally of the damage—not much, thankfully. Minus a blackish streak of soot on the white surface (she'll have to scrub that off later), there's nothing to indicate her failed attempts at cooking.

She rubs her hands together before reaching for the frying pan again. She's the Avatar, and the Avatar does not give up.

When Mako enters later, sniffing the air—_"Funny, I thought I smelled something burning,"_ she smiles at him sweetly and shoos him out the door.


	6. flame

**A/N: **So, I was listening to "The Flame" by Cheap Trick, and this one part made me think of Mako in the finale: _Watching shadows move across the wall/I feel so frightened/I wanna run to you/I wanna call/But I've been hit by lightning. _Somehow, that evolved into this.

This scene is definitely AU; in this, both Mako and Korra lost their bending to Amon. Korra did manage to defeat Amon in the end, through airbending, but not before both Mako was stripped of his bending. Also, Korra never went into the Avatar State and so didn't recover the rest of her bending. The next one will be closer to canon, I promise, but I couldn't get this out of my head so here it is._  
_

_Remember after the fire, after all the rain  
I will be the flame… _~The Flame, by Cheap Trick

* * *

**6. flame**

* * *

Some nights, he's on the floor again, watching as Amon slowly approaches him. Korra is already limp on the floor, and he can feel the sheer anger crackling inside of him, the lightning waiting to be unleashed and directed.

He never summons it in time.

He always wakes up, face pale and drawn, because the next few minutes of the dream—_not just a dream, _he reminds himself; a _reality_—are too painful to bear.

Korra always knows.

She'll wake up, too, stare at him in silence for a while and then reach out and trail a finger down his cheek (and a tear will trace its way down her cheek, too, but he won't let himself cry)_._ It took a while for her to come around, for him to fill the empty spots left behind where there used to be elements, but he's doing it, slowly. And she's doing the same for him.

At night, when they're cold, they start the fire by hand.

It's not the same, but he doesn't let himself think about that.

They sit side by side, leaning against each other for reassurance and for warmth (because Amon took the warmth singing in their blood away, but they're reclaiming it).

Slowly, little by little. It's frustrating sometimes, saddening, and it never stops hurting.

But with Korra by his side, he manages to keep the flame burning at his core, even if it will never come to his fingertips again. At least he'll never be completely cold.


	7. formal

**A/N:** Sorry, sorry, sorry I missed yesterday! Hopefully Meelo peeing in a bush makes up for it. (I mean...what? :P)

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**7. formal**

* * *

The minute she hears the words "formal attire," Korra groans. "Do I have to?" she asks Tenzin.

"Yes, you do," Tenzin answers levelly.

So Korra gets Asami to pretty her up and the whole lot of them stand in front of City Hall: Lin and her police force, Pema and the children, Mako, Asami, Bolin, Korra, and the council members, looking better after their rescue from the Equalists. Cameras flash. Someone hands Tenzin a pair of scissors. He snips the red ribbon in front of City Hall, announcing, "The Republic City Council is officially up and running once more."

Everyone poses for the pictures. Korra stretches her mouth into a smile, even though her dress is starting to pinch slightly in the back and she wants nothing more than to leave.

Thankfully, the baby Rohan causes a diversion. His wails send everyone scrambling to clear out so the frazzled mother can get him home. As if on cue, the other airbender children discard their calm demeanor. Chaos reigns. Meelo tears through the crowd searching for a bathroom. Ikki attacks a reporter, firing off questions in an amusing reversal of roles. Jinora sighs and pulls out a book she's had concealed somewhere under her clothing the whole time, which earns a disapproving glare from her mother before Rohan bawls and diverts Pema's attention once more. Lin starts telling everyone to clear out and go home, and Korra lets out a breath of relief and slouches, no longer having to maintain a somewhat-rigid posture.

Someone shrieks, "The gardenias!" and Meelo barrels out of the fray, still hoisting up his pants with a triumphant grin.

Tenzin turns purple and grabs his son by the collar. Bolin guffaws. Pema is too busy consoling Rohan to notice. Ikki pinches her nose and Jinora looks over the top of her book briefly before lowering her eyes.

"I never want to have kids," Korra says out of the corner of her mouth, watching as Tenzin totes his child away.

Mako chuckles. "Never?"


	8. companion

**8. companion**

* * *

"Why am I doing this again?" winces Mako, heaving himself onto the roof.

Korra cracks open an eye. "Took you long enough," she sniffs, her legs crossed in a meditating position.

"I had to wait," explains Mako. "I didn't want to have to explain to Tenzin why I was climbing a building randomly."

Korra stifles a laugh and pats the spot beside her. "Sit," she instructs.

Mako obliges. He doesn't know why Korra persuaded him to come up here, but he figures that he'll discover the reason soon enough. He settles himself into a comfortable position and mirrors Korra's pose, legs crossed, except he doesn't do the whole fists-pressed-together thing because it makes him feel silly.

He waits.

"You know, this is where I first heard about you on the radio," divulges Korra.

Mako raises an eyebrow. "You brought a radio up onto the roof?"

Korra shoves him in the shoulder. It's not enough to make him lose his balance (which is good, because he's perched on a roof, for Spirit's sake). "No, the radio was down there." She jabs a finger, pointing below them. "The White Lotus guards were listening and I was up here eavesdropping because Tenzin told me I wasn't allowed to see or hear a probending match. They were just getting to the good part, and then the radio cut off and Tenzin caught me. But it was exciting while it lasted." Korra shrugs.

Her voice is softer when she speaks again. "I never imagined that the name I'd heard on the radio would one day become a real, solid person sitting next to me."

"Bolin and I first heard about you on the radio, too, when all the stations were broadcasting that you had come to the city," points out Mako. "Look how far we've come since then."

Korra grins, a twinkle in her eye. "True. But some things haven't changed."

"Oh?" responds Mako. "Like what?"

Korra turns towards him and winds her arms around his neck, her breath warm in his face. "Like you still fuss too much and sometimes you can be a bit of a jerkbender."

He stiffens, frowns, and pulls away (but not very far). "Excuse me?"

Korra laughs softly and nuzzles him. "I'm kidding, Cool Guy."

He succumbs and lets Korra kiss him. When they break apart, he leans forward and murmurs in her ear, "You're the Avatar…and I'm in love with you."

Korra smiles. "Both are true."


	9. move

**9. move**

* * *

"Korra. You're blocking the cabbages," says Mako, trying to reach around her so he can inspect the green leaves.

Korra continues to fidget. She bites her lip, shifting from one foot to another. She doesn't move out of the way.

Mako settles back on his heels, studying her face. "Korra? What's the matter?"

"I want to go out on a date," blurts Korra, face burning hotly the minute the words are said. She avoids Mako's eyes as her cheeks turn pink and clenches her fingers, as if steeling herself for rejection.

Mako arches an eyebrow. "Doesn't going to the market together count for something?" he asks coolly.

"It's not the same," counters Korra, the blush fading slightly from her cheeks. "I mean a _date_—you know, a nice dinner and everything."

Mako tries to see why Korra is bringing this up now, but fails. "I know, but I don't see why—"

"You went on a bunch of dates with Asami," Korra says, quieter, regretting the words immediately. She didn't mean for the words to come out as jealous as they sounded. She intended to state them simply, as facts, but her mouth decided to twist them up. She doesn't know why she's starting this now, of all times, and she's not trying to pick a fight. Honestly, though, she can't help noticing that she and Mako have never dressed up and gone out for a night in town. They order takeout and walk around Republic City together and tease each other and spar. They don't ride Satomobiles around the park, but all of a sudden Korra wants to try it, just to know what it'd be like.

Mako, meanwhile, is trying to muster an answer. First and foremost on his tongue are the words, "You're not Asami," because Korra isn't. She's loud, impatient, eager, bright-eyed, and always ready with an offhand comment. She has never brought up something like this before. In all honesty, Mako was wary of proposing a nice date because he didn't want Korra to feel the need to dress up (and also because he's not sure if that would mean he'd have to get her flowers or not, in which case he'd have to run to Bolin for help). But if Korra is dying to have a date, so be it.

"All right," Mako agrees. "If you want to, then we will. How about tonight?" he asks smoothly, because that way he won't have as much time to fuss and freak out.

A slow look of astonishment and then pleasure spreads over Korra's face. She stands there, beaming at Mako. "Okay," she accepts brightly.

"Good," nods Mako, the matter settled. "Now move and help me pick out some cabbages."


	10. silver

**A/N:** Jeez, chapter ten already? Anyway, a MASSIVE thank you to everyone who has favorited, alerted, read, reviewed...I love you all. :)

* * *

** 10. silver**

* * *

Pema watches as the young girl throws her head back in laughter at something the firebender boy says. Korra stands over the sink, up to her elbows in soapy suds. She flicks some warm water in Mako's direction and Mako finishes drying off a plate, arching an eyebrow at her. "Are you washing the dishes or not?" he asks.

Korra holds up a silver fork in answer and sets it on the rack to dry as if it is a major accomplishment. "As a matter of fact, I am," she replies. "Now get back to drying those dishes, Towel Boy."

"Towel Boy?" Mako repeats incredulously as he towels off a teacup. "At least I'm taking my job seriously, thank you very much."

Korra snickers. "As much as anyone can take you seriously with a _dishrag_ in your hand."

Mako frowns. "There's nothing wrong with me drying the dishes," he justifies, and whaps Korra lightly on the head with the towel for good measure.

"Hey!" Korra jerks around, holding up her soapy hands. "That's it. You're on."

"Okay, now calm down—" Mako backs up into a corner while Korra advances, summoning a soapy mass of water from the sink. Mako waves his towel back and forth in the air, warding her off.

It's useless, of course, and they both know it. Korra stops the rag easily before hitting Mako in the face with the dishwater. She bursts into laughter as Mako splutters, his hair sopping wet and flat against his head.

"Korra!" he cries in outrage before reversing their positions, backing her up against the kitchen counter.

Korra grins and eases the towel from Mako's hands, patting his hair dry with it and watching in amusement when his black hair sticks up all over the place. "You'll dry," she says before gasping in surprise as Mako unceremoniously dumps a handful of soap bubbles into her hair.

From the doorway, Pema stifles a giggle. _They're going to be happy,_ she thinks, _for a long, long time._


	11. prepared

**A/N: **Hey guys! So, I leave for camp tomorrow, which means that for the next three weeks my updates will be very sporadic, if not next to nonexistent. Sorry about that. :-/ I have some downtime on Sundays, though, so I'll try to write some stuff and post it from my phone then, but there's no guarantee. When I get back, though, I'll definitely be updating daily! :)

* * *

**11. prepared (continuation of chapter 9, move)**

* * *

"How do I look?"

"Great, Mako, you look great."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, of course. I mean, _I_ picked out the suit."

"Which is why I'm having second thoughts."

"Hey! Not cool, bro, not cool."

Mako rolled his eyes and smoothed out his suit jacket. Behind him, Bolin grinned over Mako's shoulder in the mirror.

"All right, now give me a spin," coached Bolin, twirling his finger.

Mako stared at his brother flatly.

"Okay, fine, no spin," said Bolin. "At least give me a smile."

Mako rolled his eyes but grinned anyways, punching Bolin in the shoulder. "There, happy?"

"Ecstatic." Bolin clapped his hands together and rubbed them. "You sure you don't want any hair gel?"

"No." Korra liked his hair natural, and even if he'd worn hair gel Mako knew his hair would be mussed by the end of the night anyway.

"Then I think you're ready."

Mako glanced at the clock. 6:30—he had half-an-hour to kill. Might as well catch the ferry to Air Temple Island so he could pick up Korra.

"Okay. I'm going now. Thanks, Bo." Mako smiled again and pulled his brother in for a hug.

"Good luck!" Bolin called as Mako grabbed his keys.

Mako was almost out the door when Bolin came pounding down the steps shouting, "Wait!"

"You'll need these," said Bolin, thrusting a bouquet of flowers into Mako's hands.


	12. knowledge

**A/N:** Hey guys! It's been a busy week at camp, but I managed to type this up in my free time. Hope you guys like it. :)

* * *

**12**.** knowledge**

* * *

Jinora's new favorite genre is historical romances. She perches on the stone steps and flips another page while Korra and Mako spar. They're in their own little bubble, intense and focused and completely oblivious of everyone around them. Jinora isn't sure if they know she's there.

Korra is using only one element today: air. _Korra's getting good,_ Jinora notes, although her airbending prowess hasn't quite caught up to her mastery of the other elements yet.

A stream of fire narrowly misses Korra's ponytail.

"Jerk!" shouts Korra, sending a blast of air at Mako, who dodges it.

Mako shrugs, one shoulder lifting higher than the other. "You told me not to go easy on you."

Jinora likes watching them spar, partially to watch the emotional sparks flying between the two, partially to watch the actual sparks.

Korra finally gets the upper hand, knocking Mako of his feet. Jinora knows he could spring back up in the blink of an eye if he wants to, but for some reason he doesn't.

Jinora figures out why soon enough when Korra saunters over, looming over Mako with a triumphant grin. "I win," she declares.

"Oh really," Mako responds before grabbing her hand and yanking Korra down on top of him. Korra laughs heartily as she arches over him, poking his cheek. "Sore loser," she says.

Jinora watches, fascinated. They'd better not let Tenzin catch them, because she has a feeling her father would have quite a lot to say on the matter. She can already imagine the nice shade of purplish-red Tenzin's face would turn.

"Sore, maybe," replies Mako. "But not quite a loser." Next thing Jinora knows, he raises himself off the ground slightly to kiss Korra.

Jinora whips her book up to shield her eyes. _Oh,_ she thinks as Korra makes some weird noise in the back of her throat, _oh._

Reading about historical romances isn't quite as exciting as watching a real romance play out in front of her eyes, and eventually Jinora peeks out of the corner of her eye as Korra and Mako continue kissing.

Korra and Mako's story will be one for the ages, Jinora decides. And somebody had better write a book about it soon, so she can read it and say she was there and knew them personally when they were young and first fell in love.

Footsteps sound from farther off and Mako and Korra break apart quickly, tugging down their clothes and scrambling off each other, trying to disguise the blush staining their cheeks.

Or maybe, Jinora considers, she'll write Mako and Korra's story herself.


	13. denial

**13. denial**

* * *

"I'm not sick!"

"Are too," Mako argues, trying to refrain from tearing out tufts of his hair in frustration. "Just lie down, would you?"

"Honest, Mako, I'm _fine—"_ Korra's protests are cut short as she keels over, coughing. Mako's eyebrows knit together. He quickly moves to rub slow circles on her back. Korra only slaps his hands away, scowling. "Stop _babying _me," she growls.

Mako struggles not to roll his eyes. Korra is so stubborn, even in sickness, and he makes a mental note to himself that when they're both old and gray there's no way she'll agree to stay in a nursing home.

"I won't," he relents. Korra's mouth eases into a smile, one of those _ha I win_ ones, but Mako isn't finished speaking. "But you still need to lie down," he insists firmly, gripping her shoulders and pretty much forcing her onto her back. He lays a cold compress over her forehead.

Korra sighs. "Ahhh. That feels good."

Mako bites back a grin. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Korra doesn't disagree with him this time, probably exhausted. Her blinks get slower until her eyes close completely. "Mako?" Her voice is soft, inches away from sleep.

"Yeah?" he asks, pulling up her covers even though he knows she's going to kick them away later.

"I love you."

He stops his movements, reaching out and taking her hand in his. He looks at their entwined fingers and then her tangled hair and reaches out to smooth the cold towel across her forehead.

"I love you, too, even though you're stubborn and refuse to admit you're sick," he replies.

Then, even though he knows he'll probably regret it later, he bends over and presses a kiss to Korra's feverish mouth and climbs into bed next to her.

He wakes up the next morning with an awful headache. Korra grins, her eyes glittering with revenge as she proclaims, "You're sick," in the adenoidal voice brought about by her stuffed nose.

"Am not," he denies gruffly, but relents when she pulls him back down to lie beside her.

He'll let someone else be her administering angel. For now, he'll wallow in this sickbed of hers (because _he's_ not sick—the headache will go away soon. He hopes).


	14. wind

**A/N:** I'm so, so, sorry guys about the delay in updating. The past two or so weeks have been hectic with me cramming to test out of a class and as a result this has been sorely neglected. :-/ Now that school's started up, instead of updating daily I'll probably be posting a new chapter once a week, so heads up for that and thank you for your patience. :)

* * *

**14. wind**

* * *

Mako huffs as Korra throws open the curtains, letting sunlight into the room. For a firebender, he isn't really a morning person.

"It's too early for this," he complains, but swings his legs over the side of the bed anyways, turning to squint at her blearily over one shoulder. "Do you have to pull them open all the way?"

Korra laughs and walks over, poking him in the shoulder. "You've gotten lazy."

Mako groans and flops backwards onto the bed, tossing one arm over his face to cover it. "Not lazy," he corrects, his voice muffled. "Just sore."

"I guess that's what we get for abandoning probending practice," Korra observes, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Mako rises, face suddenly pensive as he stares out the window. "I guess," he says, the slightest hint of sadness in his voice. "Bolin's probably up and at it already right this minute. He's got a lot of work cut out for him."

Korra thinks of the two new recruits to the team and cringes. She and Mako met them once. They're nice enough people, but their bending prowess isn't quite where it needs to be-not if they want to win.

"It's hard to let go of the team captain title, isn't it?" Korra asks, but she knows that it's more than that. It's leaving Bolin to his own devices that gnaws away at Mako. She's tried to explain time and time again that Bolin is fine and the city is safe—Mako doesn't have to constantly be on guard now, but old habits die hard.

Mako nods slowly. "I keep on asking myself if maybe I should have stayed."

"Mako." Korra places a hand on his arm and looks into his eyes. "You've got other things to worry about, now. Like work," she reminds. "Beifong'll have your head if you're late."

Korra is unprepared as Mako moves forward with surprising swiftness, burying his face in her neck as he holds her close. "It's the weekend," he mutters, sounding a bit like a willful child, which is amusing because he's always the responsible, older one. "She won't mind as much."

Korra laughs, running her fingers through Mako's hair absentmindedly as she speaks. "Beifong? Not minding? Somehow, I doubt that."

Mako pulls back and sighs, his breath ghosting across her skin. "You've got work to do too," he points out, eyes narrowing.

Korra smiles and nods, pulling a breeze through the open window and ruffling his hair affectionately. It feels good to have the wind at her command. She also likes the way Mako looks tangled in the sheets, his hair mussed and windblown.

"I do," she agrees, "although _someone_ keeps distracting me."

"You're too easily distracted," Mako grins wickedly, and before he does something that'll have them both late to work, Korra shoves him off the bed.


	15. order

**15. order**

* * *

"And the couch will go here, and maybe we'll put up curtains," details Korra, arms gesturing around the room in demonstration.

Mako arches an eyebrow. "You mean _I'll_ be putting up the curtains," he says, "since _someone_ doesn't have much patience when it comes to putting things up properly."

From across the table, Korra flexes a bicep. "Nah, I'll just do all the heavy lifting," she teases. "But seriously," she adds, leaning across the table and resting her forearms on the darkened wood, "What do you think?"

"I think it's a great idea," Mako answers honestly. "Look, I even jotted it down."

He pushes the sheet of paper across the table towards Korra, where Korra regards it with a careful eye. It isn't a masterpiece or anything, just a few quick, rough lines done in pencil that outline the general layout. Korra tugs her lip between her teeth as she scrutinizes Mako's sketch, and it takes all of Mako's willpower to resist leaning across the table, grabbing her face in his hands, and planting a kiss on her mouth.

After a pause, Korra slides it back, approval sparkling in her eyes. "It's good," she says. "Although, you forgot to add in the bedroom." She taps an empty spot on the page on what would be the second floor, where Mako left an open square but didn't draw anything in.

He sketches a quick bed and hands it back over, arching an eyebrow. "Better?" he asks.

"Better," agrees Korra. "But not quite complete." She motions for the pencil. Mako hands it over, their fingers brushing.

Korra twirls it between her fingers for a bit before shifting, obscuring Mako's view of the drawing. She scribbles something down and then sets the pencil on the table triumphantly. The sheet follows, face down.

Mako flips it over. Above his neat and orderly squares is scrawled, in large, looping handwriting, _Mako and Korra's house._


	16. thanks

**A/N: **Doesn't really involve Korra too much, but it still seemed fitting.

* * *

**16. thanks**

* * *

He arrives at the site of a petty crime. A fish vendor's stall is overturned, smoldering, and he shakes his head. The Triads have gotten wilder since Amon's disappearance, wrecking property during the crossfire between the gangs. It isn't endearing them to Republic City's populace, and Mako worries about the work Korra has cut out for her. The police can deal with little things like this, but Korra might have to step in eventually.

Mako dismounts from his motorcycle and runs over to the man wringing his hands.

"Thank goodness," the man begins, half-angry, half-relieved. "I was beginning to think no one would ever show up."

"Republic City's police is here for _all_ the people," Mako finds it necessary to say (_he remembers a woman's face and the words, "You're our Avatar, too," and the grim set of Korra's features_). "Now, can you tell me what happened?"

"What normally happens," the man answers. "A group of benders came through demanding dues from everyone or they wouldn't leave us alone. And then the Triple Threat Triads came and told the other benders to get out of their turf. They duked it out and my stall got set on fire, but the leader said it was a small price to pay for my "protection." And then they left."

Mako opens his mouth to speak. Over the shoulder of the man, he notices a flash of movement. A lean, scruffy boy darts into the street, poking around the edges of the wreckage.

He inhales sharply, the memories hitting him so quickly he thinks he might get whiplash. The merchant's bushy gray eyebrows knit together as he asks, suspiciously, "Is there something wrong, Officer Mako?"

_Officer._ The word reminds him that he patrols the streets now, rather than hiding in the shadows. He comes and goes by motorcycle, not by callused feet. But he is still an orphan, and he remembers picking at scraps, no better than a vulture or hyena scavenging leftover remains. He locks eyes with the boy, who meets him head-on, matching Mako's stare with a defiant look. The boy is caked with mud and soot and clutches a charred fish in one hand. He is dirty, but he is also proud, his back not yet bent under the weight of his circumstances.

"Nothing," says Mako, setting a hand on the man's shoulder. "Now, why don't you walk with me and tell me anything else you might know, like where they could have went…" He steers the fish vendor away from the scene, making sure the merchant never turns around.

And even though Mako's back is turned on the boy, he imagines he can read the silent thanks in the child's eyes.


	17. look

**A/N:** Partially inspired by "The Promise," when Katara has a vision of her and Aang in the future.

* * *

**17. look**

* * *

Her hand catches his arm, halting him in his tracks. Mako stops to study the frail old lady standing beside him. The top of her head barely reaches his shoulders, and her face is weathered and wrinkled. Katara smiles up at him fondly, the blue of her eyes partially disappearing under the folds in her skin.

He doesn't trust himself to speak, not because he is afraid of Katara but because he feels that she's communicating with him wordlessly, pushing him to understand if he only opens his eyes and ears wider.

Mako follows her gaze and sees what he expects to see: his wife, beautiful against the snow in her blue parka. The tribe's children dart around her, eager to meet their Avatar who they've only heard of but never saw leave the compound. Who has come back from the ends of the world to visit. Who has brought her handsome "firebending prince" along with her—he smiles at that, internally laughing at the stories the children tell about them. In the end, their story is the same as any of the children's parents: boy meets girl. They fall in love. Simple, straightforward.

A little girl with brown pigtails squeals, "Catch me, catch me!" and runs past Korra, kicking up snow. Korra starts after her, running slowly to give the little girl the illusion of being ahead. Mako waits for the burst of speed Korra will put on eventually—his wife is competitive, no matter who she's against—but it never comes. Instead, Korra lets the girl tire herself out and sneaks up behind the panting child, tapping her lightly on the shoulder.

"Got you."

The girl flushes pink. "Awww," she says, then runs off to play with the others. Korra watches her go, a faint smile on her face. Her hand comes up to rest on her stomach gently. Tentatively.

In a flash, Mako's heart is in his throat. He can hear Katara now in his mind, her wizened voice croaking, _"Look."_ He looks, long and hard, at the expression on Korra's face, like some beautiful secret not ready to be shared with the world. He stares at her stomach. There is no slight swell, no indication, but Korra's hand lingering there unconsciously is enough. He turns to Katara, eyes wide, and is met with a knowing glance.

Korra will tell him when she is ready, Mako knows. She needs space and time to think and formulate her thoughts, and so does he. A snowflake lands on the back of his mittens, and Mako watches it, stark against the black fabric. Everything looks so obvious now, he thinks.

So he stands in the snow with Katara and watches his wife. He looks and looks, long and hard, and when he closes his eyes he sees a little child with Korra's features and jet-black hair.


	18. summer

**18. summer**

* * *

Summer sneaks up on them. Korra doesn't know if it's a good thing or not that she's failed to notice the passing of time. One minute it seemed the leaves were turning their fiery hues, and the next minute they are green again and the air is sticky with humidity.

She feels a bead of sweat trace its way down her back, sliding somewhere between her shoulder blades. Her toes curl in the sand, which radiates heat, making the summer sky shimmer in her vision.

The corner of Mako's mouth is twisted into a frown as he beats his towel against the rocks, tiny granules of sand dispersing in the air. Korra shields her eyes with a hand and shakes her head. Chiseled abs or not, Mako still acts like an old man.

Korra turns her attention back to the waves lapping the shore. Out here, she can understand how easy it is to forget how time passes—the waves are rhythmic, soothing, and constant. She drums her fingers along her upper arms and inhales the sea, a montage of memories floating through her brain. She remembers the hustle and bustle of Republic City when she first arrived, the scent of smoke and progress lingering in the air. Now, she, Bolin, Asami, and Mako are on a beach away from it all, and—_Spirits, _she realizes, startled, _has it really been a year?_

_Spirits,_ she thinks again. _I'm eighteen. _This time, when she closes her eyes, she recalls several striped candles, their wicks burning lower, wax dripping from their tips.

Mako abandons his towel and finally answers the call of the water and his brother, wading into his waves. Over his shoulder, he looks at Korra, arching an eyebrow in question.

"C'mon, Korra, are you coming in or not?" Asami waves from farther off, flinging saltwater everywhere as she shakes her wet mass of curls.

A year has passed by much too fast. Korra's eyes skip over each of her friends. Bolin is now seventeen, Asami is nineteen and so is Mako.

And Korra is eighteen now—a little older, a little wiser, a little more world-weary; but the sunlight is running through her veins and the water is singing in her blood, so she hops off her towel and sprints through the sand, diving headlong into the waves.


	19. transformation

**19. transformation**

* * *

The changes appear little by little. Korra's toothbrush on the sink. A few clothing items shoved in Mako's drawers. Her mail tossed haphazardly on top of Mako's carefully stacked pile of letters.

"You're starting to lose your touch," Bolin remarks one day, watching as Mako grumbles to himself and folds a wrinkled gray shirt.

"Don't blame me, blame Korra," answers Mako, huffing as he pulls a blue shirt out of his drawer and tosses it to the side. "I swear, she doesn't understand the concept of order and space. I keep telling her that all of her stuff goes in the _top_ drawer, but does she listen? No!" He's talking more to himself than Bolin, and Bolin tries not to snicker.

Honestly, he kind of expected this whole thing sooner rather than later. What with how much time Korra spends at their place and how many times he's stumbled out of bed to find her and Mako already up and at the breakfast table…well, Korra practically lives with them already. People talked for the first month or so, but after that it became old news. Besides, Bolin knows Korra and his brother are saving up for a place of their own. Mako keeps a jar in the kitchen that he deposits a portion of his earnings in, and Bolin has caught Korra dropping extra yuans in there once or twice (Bolin's not sure if Mako knows—then again, his brother is oblivious about everything).

The thought of the attic without Mako, the place they shared for so long becoming empty, saddens Bolin a bit. But he knows he'll always be welcome with Mako and Korra (once they get enough money to buy themselves a place), and honestly, it's about time he learned how to live on his own. He's a big boy now; Mako has taken care of him for so long and Bolin feels the need to prove he can survive on his own. Plus, the new attic has been renovated and expanded, an additional bonus from Butakha to express his thanks. There are two levels and doors now, and it's starting to resemble a home and not just a living space.

"Hey, Bo?" Mako's voice disrupts Bolin's thoughts. "Can you get my keys?"

"Sure, bro," says Bolin, heading downstairs. "Where are they?"

"They should be on the peg right above our shoes," guides Mako.

Bolin looks there, but the peg is empty. He frowns and searches the area, even resorting to peering in their shoes. Finally, he notes a suspicious bulge under the floor mat and reaches under it, hands closing around the sharp ridges of Mako's keys.

"Aha!" he proclaims. He grins as he sets the mat back in place. If he had to guess, he'd put the blame on Korra. Honestly, she's like a pigeonsquirrel sometimes, shoving things in random places and then forgetting where she put them, or just plain forgetting to notify anyone else of their location. It drives Mako crazy and amuses Bolin endlessly.

He treks back upstairs and tosses the keys to Mako, who catches them in his outstretched hands.

"Thanks," Mako says, still sorting the rest of the laundry. "What took so long?"

Bolin rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "See, they weren't exactly on the peg."

Mako glances at him. "Where were they, then?"

"Under the floor mat."

The look that passes over Mako's face is priceless. _"Korra_," he grouches, throwing up his hands. "She just—just waltzes in and tosses stuff everywhere and changes _everything! _She's going to be the end of me, I know it."

"Nah, man," laughs Bolin. "I think the change is good for you," he says, clapping his brother on the back, and means it.


	20. tremble

**20. tremble**

* * *

His hands shake slightly as he sets the cup down. He forces them to maintain their grip on the steaming teacup instead of chickening out and hiding them in his lap.

"We've heard a lot about you," beams Senna from across the table. Tonraq, on the other hand, remains silent, one arm wrapped loosely around his wife's waist.

"Good things, I hope," says Mako, priding himself on keeping the slight tremor out of his voice.

Why can he negotiate with Republic City's big shots and tell the Triads to stay away from him and his brother, but not survive this one encounter? Tonraq and Senna are good people. Senna is all wide blue eyes and welcoming smiles and Tonraq is…well, he's in the process of earning Tonraq's approval.

Which is why Mako's so nervous. The big man hasn't said much. Mako doesn't know what to make of his chances, so he splays his hands on the table and sucks in a deep breath.

"Tonraq—er, sir, I'd like to make a request. I mean, I'm sure you've inferred as much. It's about—it's about your daughter."

"My daughter?" Tonraq's eyebrows knit together in confusion. Is that a flash of warning in his eyes? Looking into them is like confronting a coming storm, but Mako can't back down now.

"Yes," he replies steadily. "Your daughter."

"What do you _really_ know about my daughter, _my_ Korra? Do you really think you have what it takes to take care of her?" Tonraq bends over the table, his face inches from Mako. Behind Tonraq, Senna tugs on Tonraq's arm gently, murmuring, "Tonraq…" warningly.

The two men stare each other down. "I believe I can, sir," Mako answers softly. "I might not have much, but it's enough, and I'm saving every penny—"

Tonraq's shoulders begin to shake, and Mako stops, affronted and confused. The big man's head rears back and he gives a hearty chuckle before leaning over the table again, his eyes clear and sparkling with mirth, just like his daughter's.

"You and I both know that when Korra has her heart set on something, nothing can stand in her way, and she seems set on you. She's a force to be reckoned with, hm? You have my blessing." He claps Mako on the shoulder.

The motion is jarring, and the weight in Mako's stomach dissipates even as a good kind of lump lodges itself in his throat. "Thank you," he manages to say past it, and walks out on shaky legs to tell Korra that come spring they'll be married.


End file.
